


The fox stitched in wolf’s fur

by Benquel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 21:05:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Benquel/pseuds/Benquel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very short and loose effort of trying to remember how that scene in the car park escalated? It's very different and quite irrelevant to anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The fox stitched in wolf’s fur

**Author's Note:**

> This is dumb, it was merely a test for my writing capabilities- Which are also dumb.

Clever fingers wrapped around Stiles’ forearm in one liquid motion, his skin pushed plump between the spaces of each digit as the calloused finger tips applied pressure to the bones in his arm. 

“I could give you something extraordinary.” 

Peter eased Stiles’ arm forward, pressing the bruising skin to his jaw. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flared before the base of his nose scrunched and relaxed in lucid satisfaction. 

“You could be something revolutionary.” 

“I said no.”

“Your heart tells me otherwise—corroborate?” Peter’s fangs have lengthened and his smirk curled the corners of his lips like singeing petals. 

Stiles took in a quivered breath. His dark eyes try to avoid Peter’s, shifting in his skull in a panicked pace. 

“Are you satisfied with an average life?” 

Eyes slot back to watch Peter, the car park’s uniformed lights bleach his vision in a pristine shade of stark colours, leaving it difficult for Stiles to keep his eyes lined with Peter’s before having to quickly drop them to his dress shoes glossed with effort. 

“Define satisfied.”

Peter gave a threatening squeeze to Stiles’ arm.

“I don’t appreciate cheek.”

Stiles’ attention sparked in an annoyed manner at that, his eyes looked as if the boy’s patience had begun to wear through the uneasy fear.

“I don’t appreciate threats.” 

A grin stretched Peter’s lips, he lowered Stiles’ pulsing arm and plucked his fingers from the sleeved limb, however Stiles had managed to snatch it back before he was able to raise every finger. 

The offered chance of power turned down (though not without hesitation even if not admitted), Peter shot his hand up, fingers and thumb pressed either side to cup Stiles’ lower face, his cheeks growing red from both the pressure and the sudden antic of Peter’s supposed last resort. 

“You will, although not now, admit you want it. And do you know what, Stiles? I’ll be the man to give it to you. The Bite.” he snapped his teeth audibly with a quick jerk of his neck, leaving his face only inches from Stiles’ and his pressed, quivering lips. “When that time comes I’ll be gladly waiting with open arms.”

And with that Peter released his fingers and begun to leave the car park with long, effortless strides. In the mean time this left Stiles the opportunity to stumble backwards in fast breaking steps. He hit his back hard against the passenger door of an olive toned car, which unfortunately broke out into high pitched sirens as the alarm set off.  
Peter’s disguise was coming undone at the seam with every sly toned word that effortlessly left the man’s mouth, Stiles could feel the difference he illuminated. Revealing the bright red fur of different intentions in a mind where the doctrine for mischievous possibilities curl like smoke. Coming undone possibly through aimed objectives. 

Stiles let out a shuddered breath as the howling of the car deafened his ears.

How fucking horrifying.


End file.
